


Let it Eat You Away (Ryden)

by charismatics



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charismatics/pseuds/charismatics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryden high school AU. Ryan Ross is a pretentious, 17-year-old poet who doesn't really care about anything except his poetry, music and maybe his best friend Spencer. The universe doesn't really seem to work in his favour...until he meets Brendon.</p><p>Ryan meets Brendon while holding auditions for his band. The two become fast friends.  And with every late night talk and song he writes about Brendon, Ryan seems to fall more and more in love.</p><p>Of course, he'd never tell.</p><p>(Trigger warning: Parent abusing child, Alcoholism)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dropping Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written in a while so I'm rusty...Please be kind! There's something Audrey supposedly said about Brendon and Ryan after her and Brendon broke up. She said "whenever I was on tour I'd wake up and they  
> would be sitting in the lounge together alone at like 7am" and that "he said they're just "best friends" but he'd rather  
> sleep with ryan in the lounge then me sometimes in his bed". I couldn't help but imagine the two of them talking late into the night and falling in love. That inspired this fic. Another thing that inspired this was The Calender by Panic! at The Disco, as you can probably tell from the title. The first few chapters are a bit meh but (in my opinion) chapter 4 is really where I'm starting to get into the swing of writing.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Waking up on a school day is bad. But waking up to your drunk father screaming at you is considerably worse. Trust me, I know.

  
Not that its anything out of the ordinary for me. That fucking dickhead seems to wake me up with a chorus of "you're pathetic"'s and "you're worthless"''s most mornings. School is shitty, but at least it's an escape. And I have my own secret hideaway, just behind the shed where they keep all the sports equipment. It's where everyone goes to smoke, and the smell of cigarettes just seems to linger in the air.

  
I head there as soon as I get to school. There's a few paving stones right behind the shed, and I sink down onto one and take out my notebook. It's half full now, but most of the stuff in it is just shit I wrote down when I was angry and needed to vent. I hover my pen above my paper, unsure of what to write, what emotions to spill-

  
"Ryan?"

  
"Fuck, Spencer! Stop creeping up on me like that!" I say jumpily. Spencer is standing a few steps away from me, blocking out the only light that was filtering into this enclosed space. I love Spencer, I really do. But he can be extremely irritating sometimes- like right now.

  
"Ry, I wouldn't need to creep up on you if you didn't feel the need to hang out in this shithole," Spencer says matter-of-factly. I roll my eyes, but stretch a little and get back on my feet, shoving my notebook in my pocket.

  
"It's not a shithole, it's my creative space," I say, half-sarcastic.

  
Spence looks at me with a face of stone. He hates me hanging out behind the shed because he's convinced he saw Darren Gates shooting up here once and now he's paranoid I'm gonna accidentally fall on a needle and catch HIV or something. I mean, it's sweet that he cares really, but I'm pretty sure the worse people do behind here is make out and smoke "herbal" cigarettes.

  
"Let's just go." I tell Spencer, rolling my eyes as if i'm doing him a favour.  
***********************************************  
My school is way too small for the people it lets in. It's overpopulated, and trying to walk through the corridors is a fucking challenge to say the least. As I shuffle through the crammed space, I feel someone quickly push past me, bumping my left shoulder and making me everything I was carrying all over the floor. The boy who had bumped me stops himself, realising he'd made me drop everything. He hurries over to help, dropping to the floor to gather up my paper. I'm doing the same, trying to grab all of the pieces before someone trods on them. He hands me the papers he's gathered. "I'm so sorry, man!" He apologises and looks up at me. I blink a couple of times.

  
I've never seen this boy before but it feels as if I should know him. His eyes hold my gaze. They're brown, dark and deep. His lips are full and his hair is effortlessly messy. I stare at him a second too long.

  
I swallow. "Yeah...yeah, don't worry about it." I tell him, shaking my head and breaking our eye contact. He flashes me a grin before hurrying off again, a bit more carefully this time.


	2. The Start of the Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this! Enjoy the chapter, and thank you for reading!

I've been writing a lot lately. For some fucking weird reason, running into that boy inspired me. I just can't get over how I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. I-

  
"Ryan. Ryan?!"

  
I snap out of my daydreaming. Spencer is looking at me expectantly. "Have you thought about my idea anymore?" He asks me. Oh. I'd forgotten about that.

  
The idea is this: Spencer wants to start some kind of a band. He's started learning how to play the drums, and he thinks that I'd be alright at writing lyrics since I write poems.

  
"You can sing if you like," he suggests, as if this would sweeten the deal.

  
"No one wants to hear me sing." I tell him.

  
"Well, then we'll just hold auditions. We need a bassist too." Spencer says optimistically. I give him a half-hearted smile, just to humour him. To be quite honest, all of this band bullshit is just make believe to me. Yes, I love music, and so does he. But there's no way we're gonna be able to get a bassist and a singer that are actually half-decent in this shitty town. No one cares here. Everyone's goals here are just to grow up, have kids and then eventually die, being buried in the same soil that they played on as a child. No one here actually wants to go places, so they don't bother doing learning to play an instrument or writing songs. I don't tell this to Spencer obviously, it'd break his heart. So I just decide to go along with it.

  
"When should we hold the auditions?" I ask.

  
Worst comes to worst, we hold the auditions and get absolutely no one. Spencer would be distraught...but I can cross that bridge when it comes to it.

  
"Are you free this Saturday?" Spencer asks me. I nod.

  
"We could do it then."

  
"Ok. But you're organising it."

  
"Deal."

  
Even though I'd told Spencer he was doing all the work, me and him somehow ended up in the library twenty minutes later, making posters.

  
"How about this?" Spencer asks me. On a piece of paper he has written the words "DO YOU WANT TO BE IN A BAND?" in thick, bold letters at the top. Underneath he has written "We need members for a new band. If you are interested, please call this number" and then Spencer has written his number. At the bottom it says "Singers and bassists particularly welcome."

  
"That'll work fine," I tell him. Funnily enough, Spencer's enthusiasm has rubbed off on me a little, and I can't help but be a little excited at the prospect of starting a band.   
***********************************************  
By lunch time the next day, Spencer has plastered bright pink copies of the original poster all over the school halls. They're eye-catching to say the least. I'm just hoping they catch the right eyes.

  
Anytime Spencer crosses one of our posters in the hall he grins to himself like an idiot. He can't contain his excitement at the thought of starting a band. He's an optimist. He actually thinks people are going to call us, he thinks people are going to turn up to these stupid auditions. As much as I'd like to believe that people will turn up, I know we're lucky as hell if we even get one call, if we even get one untalented bastard turning up at my house, knocking on the door of my garage.

  
As we eat lunch, Spencer chatters away to me about the band. "It's gonna be so fucking good!" He grins, his speech muffled thanks to the fact that his mouth is half-full. I just roll my eyes. I still refuse to get too excited about this band idea. "Come on! You must be a bit excited!" Spencer laughs.I smile. I guess I am a little excited...But only a little. I swear.  
***********************************************  
On Friday, we get a call. Not a prank call like we've had a few of already, but a real call. Me and Spencer are walking home from school when it happens.

  
"Unknown number," He tells me, a hint of excitement in his voice. We both know what an unknown number means.

  
"Answer it." I tell him. He taps on the screen and puts the phone to his ear.

  
"Hello...Oh yes, it is! Are you interested in auditioning?" Spencer turns to grin at me, giving me a thumbs-up. I nod back. "That's great! Ok, on Saturday we're holding auditions at 24 Oak Street starting at 1:00PM. We'll be in the garage, and please bring your own instrument...Alright! See you then!" Spencer hangs up and gives me yet another smile.  
"Some guy called Brent wants to audition. And- he's a bassist!"

  
I feel my mouth break into a smile. I can't help it. This band might actually be not just an idea anymore.

  
Later on, Spencer calls me to tell me we've had another call about the auditions.  
"This guy said he plays a load of instruments and-get this-he said he sings a bit too! I can't fucking wait to see him audition!"

"Awesome," I tell Spence, geniunely meaning it. "What's his name?"

"Brendon."


	3. Call me Ry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon and Ryan meet properly...finally. The first paragraph of this was really self indulgent...I just like writing pretty descriptions, ok? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please comment if you did! <3

I flex my fingers under the water. The sun is shining through the window and into the bath, making the water paint my hand with strange dappled patterns. Every so often a droplet escapes from the tap and falls into the bath, making a ripple spread out on the water's surface. I lift my head and let the sun hit my face.

The auditions are today. I got up early. Not because I needed to, but because I couldn't sleep. It's not like I'm nervous. I'm not the one auditioning. I just want today to go well. I want Spencer to be happy and that means that today has to go well.  
***********************************************  
I sit on the threadbare sofa in his garage beside Spence. I can tell he's nervous about today too.

The garage door is open and we have a full view of the street outside. I watch as a scruffy boy with long hair walks down the street, checking the numbers, before spotting us, giving a shaky smile and hurrying down the driveway towards us. He's carrying a bass-shaped case and I realise this must be Brent.

"Hey!" Spencer calls out, standing up and smoothing out his t-shirt. He walks over to the boy, grinning.

"Hey, man," the boy says, "I'm Brent, uh, I'm a bassist." Spencer nods enthusiastically as if to say yes, I know exactly who you are.

"I'm Spencer, and that's Ryan."

"Hey, dude," I call out to Brent, lifting my hand as a welcoming gesture. Brent nods at me.

"Well, if you just get out your bass and we can get you set up." Spencer is incredibly excited now that he knows Brent is definitely a real person and not just a prank caller.

"Sweet, alright," Brent smiles.

Once he's got Brent set up, Spencer sits down beside me on the sofa once more. I get out my notebook and pen from my backpack, ready to note down points about Brent's performance.

"Ok, Brent can you play us any song you know?" Spencer asks.

Brent nods, his long hair swaying as he does so.

He plays a bit of a song I don't know called "Crashing Down". He's good. Ok, maybe I'm being a bit too kind- he's alright. But he'll do. We can work with this.

"That was cool, man." Spencer then looks at me as if to ask what I think. I nod and smile. Yeah, he'll do.

"Yeah, well done Brent," I add for reinforcement.

Spencer breaks out into a massive, ear-to-ear grin. "I think that means you're in the band!"

"Seriously?!" Brent laughs.

"Seriously. Right, Spence?" But Spencer isn't listening anymore. He's spotted the boy walking down his driveway.

"Brendon?" Spencer asks, shouting from his spot in the garage.

"Yeah!" The boy answers. The voice sounds familiar.

As he gets closer I get the sense that I know him from somewhere. Then it hits me.

He's that boy.

The one I bumped into. And totally stared at for way too fucking long. And may or may not have been writing poems about him.

I grin and walk over to him, attempting to play it cool. "Hey, man," I nod.

"Hi- haven't we met?"

"Yeah, you, um" I look away, unable to meet his eyes for some reason, "You kind of bumped into me in the corridor. I'm Ryan."

His eyes flash with recognition. "Oh, yeah! Small world! Hey, Ryan."

He's enthusiastic, and very handsome- so would make a great frontman. As long as he can sing. Hell, even if he can't sing. I mean, there's a fuckton of successful bands who's frontmen probably couldn't even sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star in tune.

Spencer walks over to us. "I'm Spencer. Man, I am so excited to have you here. We need a good singer!"

"I hope I am one," Brendon laughs.

"This is Brent, by the way. Our new bassist." Spencer motions to the now ecstatic boy behind him.

"Awesome!" Brendon says, still relentlessly enthusiastic.

"We'd better hear you sing then," Spencer smiles.

Spencer had got out a stool for Brendon and he sits on it, holding the acoustic guitar he brought with him. His hair is short and very messy, but suits him perfectly.

"I'm going to sing an original song- if that's okay," Brendon says. I can sense the nervousness in his voice.

"That's great." I tell him.

He starts playing the guitar, his fingers plucking a soft rhythm on the strings. And then he starts singing.

As soon as he sings, I feel goosebumps form on my skin. His voice is beautiful, so soft and yet powerful at the same time. The sound of him seems to reach every corner of the room, and his voice sounds how velvet feels. And it's so beautiful.

When he's finished, he looks down and runs his fingers through his hair. So that's why it's so messy.

"Wow," I say, breathless.

"I agree." Spencer looks astonished.

"Then I think you're in." I look at Spencer, who nods vigorously.

"Oh, God,Thanks!" Brendon sounds disbelieving.

"So, here we are. The band." I say. We did it. We fucking did it!

"We just need a name now," Brent laughs.

"I have an idea. I wrote something down in my notebook a while ago." I flick through to the back page where I'd scrawled down the name. "Death-Defying Summer."

"That's perfect! Ry, man, that's so good!" Spencer exclaims.

"That's really good, Ryan." Brendon seems to make a point of not shortening my name.

"You can call me Ry, you know," I tell him.

"Alright, Ry." Brendon grins and winks at me.

I grin and wink right back.


	4. You Have Really Messy Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo we actually have some ryden interaction in this chapter...I had to write the first half of this 3 times over because I kept losing it due to not saving! Anyway, I really like this chapter. I hope you do too! Please enjoy...

We sit in the sun, outside our school. My band members chatter and I join in occasionally but mainly just scribble lyrics and nonsense in my notebook.

"We should totally celebrate this band at someone's house tonight," I tune in to hear Brent say.

"I can't have it at mine." I say immediately. Brendon and Brent look at me enquiringly. I don't care- let them wonder about me.

It's not my fault my dad is a pathetic drunk mess. Even if he let me have friends around, I wouldn't want them to come. I wouldn't want them to see him. He's embarrassing.

"That's cool, man, I can have it at mine." Spencer saves me giving me a knowing look and quickly changing the subject. 

"Seriously?" Brendon asks, grinning.

"Yeah, my parents are on some cruise to the Maldives. Come over at 8." Spencer addresses us all.

"Alright!" Brent pats Spencers shoulder as if to say thanks.

"Will you be able to come?" Spencer asks me. I hesitate. Will I be able to come? My dad doesn't like me going out. He always wants me to stay in the house. My theory is that it's because he's worried his alcohol will almost kill him some day and he wants me to be there to call the ambulance. The thing is, even if I was there, I'm not sure if I'd call an ambulance...Or if I'd just leave him there to rot.

"Yeah...yeah, I can make it." I tell him.

I can always sneak out of the window.

***************

I close the door slowly and carefully, wincing when it clicks shut. I pause. No sounds...he should still be in his alcohol induced slumber.

I pad to the living room doorway and look in. My dad is asleep on the sofa, one arm draped over the edge and clutching an empty whisky bottle. He looks half-dead. I can't help but wonder why he always has to half-ass everything.

I start to climb the stairs, taking it one step at a time and trying not to make too much noise. As I put my weight onto the third step, it emits a high-pitched creak.

"George?"

I freeze.

"George, come here." 

I ignore him and stay frozen on my spot. The next minute he stumbles out of the living room, taking angry, uncoordinated steps towards me. When he reaches me, he balls my shirt in his fist and drags my face close to his.

"Do what you're told, boy." He hisses. His breath smells like stale alcohol. I stare at him in silent defiance. He lets go of my shirt and I drop back down.

"Leave me alone." I mumble.

"What?" He spits threateningly.

"Nothing." I shrink. I don't repeat myself and I don't challenge him because I'm scared. I'm fucking terrified of him. And I hate it and I feel so pathetic but I'm so fucking terrified of him and I can't do anything.

He fixes me with a glare, his jaw clenched, daring me to do something. But I won't do anything and he knows it. The next minute he leaves and I hear the clink of bottles in the kitchen as he searches for more booze.

I sink down to sit on the stairs and wipe away the tears that are running down my face. It's embarrassing to feel so weak. 

************

I open my window fully so that it's wide enough for me to fit through. I can do this. I mean, I've done it before. But it's just kind of intimidating to look down and only see the grey stone tiles that would easily break my neck were I to fall on them. 

I maneuver myself and put my feet out first, then my legs. I keep a vice-like grip on the window frame, even more aware of how easily I could fall and die right now. 

I slide down the tube on the side of my house until I'm low enough that I can jump down onto the ground without breaking my legs. I practically run out my driveway and down the street, terrified my dad might see me. Terrified of what he might do if he did.

Spencer's house is only five minutes away, and I know the route off by heart. When I arrive he grins and gives me a one-armed hug.

"Ryan, hey! Here, follow me."

He leads me to the kitchen where Brendon and Brent are, drinking bottles of beer.

"Hey guys," I greet my fellow band members.

"Hey, man." Brent nods.

"Hi, Ryan!" Brendon says enthusiastically.  
"Want anything to drink?" Spencer asks.

"I'm alright thanks." I say. I don't drink alcohol. Seeing my dad has made me not want to touch a drop. Spencer gets a beer out of his fridge for himself.

"Honestly, I'm lucky I even got out. My parents were interrogating me...'Where are you going' 'Will there be alcohol'," Brendon imitates his parents' questioning and then rolls his eyes. "They're so religious."

"Religious?" Brent asks, laughing.

Brendon looks awkward, as if he doesn't really want to talk about it. I know exactly what that feels like.

"You know, we should put some music on Spence." I say quickly, trying to change the subject in an attempt to help Brendon.

"Alright, come in here." We follow Spencer into his living room. His parents have this big stereo system in the corner and beside it Spencer has this huge stack of CDs. Spencer goes over to work the stereo system while the three of us sit on the floor. 

When Spencer puts on a CD, Brent grins instantly, having recognized the music.

"The Next! God, I love these guys!" Brent bursts out.

"Right? They're so good." Spencer nods.

"I've never heard of them." Brendon admits. I turn to him beside me.

"Seriously? You haven't lived." I joke.

"You haven't lived!" Brent laughs.

"My favorite album of theirs is The Glass Fish Pond." Spencer tells Brent, who nods vigorously in agreement.

"That's a good one..."

I turn to Brendon as the other two launch into a discussion about The Next. He's staring straight ahead, grinning at our two band mates.

"What?" I ask, expecting him to be laughing at something stupid one of them has just said or done.

Brendon ducks his head blushing, and then turns to me. "It's nothing...I've just never really...had friends like this." He looks embarrassed and I feel something well up in my chest. Pity? No...not pity. I smile at him.

"Me neither, really. Well, except Spence. But I do now, and you do too." I laugh. "It's funny, and we haven't even been in this band for long...but this is the happiest I've ever been. In this band."

Brendon gives me a smile, on of those really warm ones that reaches his eyes. "It's great. It's really great...making music...being with you guys." He keeps staring at me and smiling. He's acting kind of strange but he's had three beers. That's enough for a boy who obviously doesn't drink much judging by his parents' attitudes.

"What?" I ask, laughing a little, since he won't stop staring at me.

"You have really messy hair." He giggles, tipsy. I become uncomfortably aware of how close we're sitting. Before I realize what he is doing, Brendon reaches over to my hair. I freeze, hyper-aware of his movements as he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. He drops his hand, and leaves it lingering for a second on the side of my face before he seems to become aware of what he's doing and takes back his hand.

"You have really messy hair." He repeats, quieter this time.

"Yeah...uh, yeah, I do." I reply awkwardly. What was that? Did Spencer or Brent see? I look over at them but they're still deep in conversation and it's unlikely either of them saw.

I keep replaying what just happened in my head while I watch Brendon take another sip of beer and pretend nothing just happened.

What is that boy's deal?


	5. Forbidden Fruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3am and I've been writing this for like 2 hours? I think? I really need to sleep, and I'm sorry if it's terrible! It is in the early hours of the morning, but i've read through and I think i've caught any mistakes. I think this is the longest chapter I've written so far, which I'm proud of. Anyway, sorry for the very delayed update! I've had very important exams, but i'm free now! Free to write as much gay fan fiction as I want!  
> Ok, I'm going to go and sleep now. Expect more regular updates now, I guess.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

"Hey. Hey! Ross wait up!" I swivel round to see Brendon a few steps behind me, waving.

"Who's Ross?" I ask jokingly. It flies over his head.

"You!" He grins as if I was genuinely asking him. "Man, I've only just gotten over my hangover." I laugh, and we fall into step together, walking towards our school.

"Oh yeah? What did your parents think?"

"Oh," Brendon pulls a face, "I just told them I had a bug, and that I didn't need to see a doctor because I was SURE it would be gone in a day or two." He bursts out laughing, and so do I.

"C'mon. Seriously?" I say, and he nods. "You got pretty wasted huh?" I ask subtly. I watch as his eyes dart to the side and his face turns slightly pink. So...maybe I wasn't that subtle. But he couldn't just expect me not to say anything.

"Uh, yeah I was...I didn't really know what I was doing. Alcohol has a weird effect on me, you know?" Yeah, Brendon, I know. How could I not know? Of course he's weird drunk, since he never drinks, and of course neither of us wants to mention it outright because we both know he didn't really mean it. Whatever 'it' was.

See, the thing is I can't forget it. I can't forget what happened. I can't forget the way he looked at me and smiled and the way his fingertips felt on my skin. Electric.

Why the fuck did he make me feel like that? Brendon Urie, of all people.

"Yeah, don't worry about it man." I say shortly, slightly out of breath from remembering what happened. Don't worry about it Brendon. Don't even think about it. God knows I'm doing enough thinking for the both of us.

*****************************************

When I get home I approach the stairs with caution, determined to get up without my dad noticing. But he isn't home, for once. I don't know where he is, but I don't give a fuck. He could be dead in a gutter for all I care. Even my conscience agrees.

I run upstairs and reach under my bed, feeling around the carpet with my hands. My hands hit a glossy magazine and I pull it out. An underwear magazine. On the front is a man with a perfect six-pack and muscled arms. I study his face. He's handsome in the way that his face is perfectly symmetrical and all angular. His messy brown hair flops over one eye and he's giving the camera a cheeky half smile.

My dad doesn't know about this magazine, of course. He'd kill me. Call me a fag and a sissy and a gay boy.

But I just like looking at the boy on the front. It might be wrong. I don't think I'm meant to feel like this. He's just...so nice to look at.

A sudden buzzing sound makes me drop the magazine and panic before I realise it's just my phone. I grab it and check the caller ID. It's Spence.

"Hey," I answer.

"Hey Ry. I've got some big news."

"You're pregnant? Congrats man." I answer dryly.

"Ha ha," he says sarcastically. "No really, there's a Battle of the Bands on, near us. In six weeks." I sit up instantly. We're a relatively new band, sure, but we've got potential. And with Brendon's voice, we're a shoo-in.

"Near us? How near?" I ask urgently. Spence laughs.

"Calm down! A couple of towns over. Just save up a bit and we can catch the train over."

"Yeah," I say breathlessly. "Wait, did you say six weeks?"

"Yep."

"WHAT? We can't do shit in six weeks!" I say, furious that I'd even got excited in the first place.

"Well, that's just the first round. We only need to prepare a couple of songs." Spencer attempts to reassure me.

"Have you told the others?"

"No. Not yet."

"Get on Skype, we'll do a group call." I tell Spence.

"Alright, talk to you in a sec."

I hang up and take one last look at the boy on the front of the magazine before tucking him back under my bed.

********************

Brendon has been nodding enthusiastically all the while Spencer was talking.

"So, what do you guys think?" Spencer asks Brent and Brendon.

"Awesome! I can't wait!" Brendon grins.

"It sounds great." Brent says, a little less enthusiastic than Brendon.

"If...And you don't have to! But if we need some songs, we could use some of mine. I mean, I already have some written. Only if you want!" Brendon says honestly.

"-Well I have some too. Songs I mean." I say.

"That's great. We could use one of each?" Spencer says carefully.

"Yep. Yep that's great." Brendon agrees.

"Ry?" Spencer asks.

"Yeah that's fine," I say.

"We need to meet up, like tomorrow. We only have six weeks. We need to get this shit done," Brent says.

"Thanks Captain Obvious," Spencer laughs.

"Fuck off," Brent grins back.

"Well, you can come to mine. If you want? My parents aren't home. You'll have to be gone by seven though," Brendon says nervously.

"That's great!" Spence nods.

And so it's settled. Death-Defying Summer is gonna kick this battle of the bands up its ass.

*******************************

I come to a stop outside an average looking house with red bricks and small windows. I double check the address Brendon texted me...Number 37. Looks like this is it.

I rap my knuckles on the dark oak door and wait. The door opens almost immediately and Brendon answers it and grins at me. He's wearing a grey t-shirt and it clings to his torso desperately, outlining his tiny waist. Don't look, don't look, don't look.

"Hey!" He grins. "Come in Ryan, the others are already here." I step into his doorway guitar-first and take a moment to look around. On one of his walls is a framed picture of Jesus Christ. On the table underneath is a huge stack of evangelistic leaflets. Brendon spots me staring.

"That's just-it's just my parents' stuff. Come down to the basement." I can tell he doesn't want me to be looking at them, so I follow him down the steps to the basement. The other two are down there, and Brent has his bass and amp set up already. Spence has a little portable drum kit sat on his lap. They both look up and greet me when they hear my footsteps.

"So we need to get down to business on these songs. Do you guys have anything?" Spencer asks, all serious.

"I,uh,I have these lyrics." Brendon reaches into his jean pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. "We can make it into a song together." Spencer nods.

"Let me see." I tell him.

"Why?" He asks defensively.

"Just let me see." He hands over the paper, and I don't want to tell him that the only reason I want to read his lyrics is because I want to compare them to mine.

At the top of the page it says "Forbidden Fruit" in cursive handwriting. It's underlined all sloppily, like he couldn't be bothered to use a ruler. I scan the lyrics, and it seems to be about forbidden love. It's pretty good actually.

"Its alright." I say, handing it back to Brendon. He looks put out, but Spencer and Brent laugh.

"Trust me, coming from Ryan that's a compliment." Spencer chuckles.

A little while later we have the verse and pre-chorus sorted out. I had a tune in my head, and Spencer could easily put a beat to it. Brent couldn't do much, but we sorted it out. And Brendon's voice is the cherry on top. He's breathtaking.

Brent's phone makes a noise and he fishes it out of his pocket. "Sorry guys, I have to leave. My parents need me home." We all nod.

"It's fine, we have some stuff done now Brent." Brendon tells him kindly.

When Brent is gone, we practice the verse a couple of times before all three of us flop down on the moth-eaten sofa in Brendon's basement.

"I'm proud of us," Brendon says quietly.

"Yeah. We're really coming on." I say.

"Yeah. Hey, Brendon, can I use your bathroom?" Spencer asks. "I've been desperate for like two hours now." Brendon laughs.

"You should have said man! Its straight up the stairs, you can't miss it." Spencer jumps up.

"Thanks!" He smiles before scurrying out of the room.

"He's so stupid." I say jokingly, shaking my head.

We sit in awkward silence for a few moments.

"Can I say something?" Brendon asks randomly. I freeze, almost sure about what wants to talk about. The hair incident.

"Yeah," I force out a one word answer.

"I-I just wanted to apologise for what I did, when I was drunk. It was totally uncalled for-I'm sorry if you feel weird about it. Just know, I didn't mean anything." Brendon tells me.

I'm suddenly aware of how close I moved towards him when Spencer left the room, and how our knees are almost touching.

"You didn't?" I ask quietly, turning to face him. Our faces are so close that I can feel his breath on my face. I stare into his eyes defiantly and he stares back. His eyes are stunning, really. I hate how stereotypical I sound saying that, but I mean it. They're a warm brown. Well more like ten different browns mixed together. And he's close to me. He's so close I could just-

"Brendon, man, your bathroom is ten times fancier than my fucking house!" Spencer yells as he comes down the top of the stairs. I jump away from Brendon like I've been scalded. Brendon doesn't move. Well, he didn't do anything wrong. It was all me.

What the fuck am I doing? I almost kissed him. I almost kissed fucking Brendon Urie, a most-probably-straight boy I've only known for a little while, and who is the lead singer of our band. The insanely talented, irresistable lead singer of our band.

No. Fuck. No! I'm not letting myself feel this way about him.


	6. I Can't Make You Love Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: GUYS I know i say this all the time, but I genuinely am going to be updating more regularly now. I've made a pretty detailed chapter plan of all of the chapters up until just after the first round of battle of the bands, and I'm SO excited about this story now! I feel like I've got some good ideas and I cannot wait to write them up! Hopefully expect more chapters in the near future, I'll try and see if I can devise some sort of schedule (i.e. a chapter every other Sunday or something like that.) Also, some fun trivia about this chapter: The dream Ryan has is inspired by a dream I had which was really weird but I thought it would be fun to put it in this. Also, I won't spoil it too much but there's a bit where Brendon sings. Here is a video of Brendon singing this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJqVd5VaLtw, it might be nice to listen to. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

_"Flowers? Why do you have flowers?" I shout at Brendon, who's carrying an armful of roses towards me, Spence and Brent. Brendon ignores me and continues walking._

_"Who are they for?" I shout again. He still doesn't reply._

_"Are they for me?" I ask hopefully. He's closer now, only a few metres away. His hair flops over his eyes as he shakes his head. He's here now, and he reaches over me to give the roses to a girl beside us who I hadn't noticed before. She flutters her eyelashes and smiles. I feel a hand reach into my ribcage and pull my heart apart._

My eyelids fly open. The light from the sunrise is filtering in through my blinds. It was only a dream. Thank fuck, it was only a dream!

Not that I'm into Brendon. Seriously. Like yes, ok maybe I did nearly kiss him but it wasn't, like, a romantic thing. And it was a mistake anyway. It didn't mean anything, I fucking swear. I'm not into Brendon Urie.

*****************************************

"We should ask Ms. Bennett for help," Brendon suggests as me and him walk side-by-side towards our school.

"Ask Ms. Bennett for help? For Battle of the Bands? Shit, Bren, what's she gonna do, make us sing a song by Take That or something?" I retort sarcastically. Bren laughs, and I feel my chest warm with pride.

"Fair point." He agrees. "But seriously, Ryan, she might be of some help. You never know."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. I'll ask her. But if she tries to make me sing Take That then you have to get me out of there."

"Deal." Brendon laughs again.

As if fate is finally working in my favour, I run into Ms Bennett in the corridor halfway through the school day.

"Oh- Ms. Bennett!"

She looks over her shoulder and spots me.

"Mr Ross, what can I do for you?" She smiles. 

"I- I was wondering if you could help my band. There's this Battle of the Bands, in like 6 weeks. And we sort of need any help we can get. I don't want to bother you, it's just Brendon- you know Brendon Urie? He wanted me to ask." 

"Ah, yes. He's a nice young man, Brendon...Well, I'm not sure I can help with any songs. I'm not really a fan of the sorts of bands that might participate in a Battle of the Bands. I'm more of a Take That sort of woman." I suppress a snort. "That being said, I can give you and your band a key to the practice room. You'll be free to practice there whenever you don't have a lesson."

I grin. Maybe it was worth asking after all.

Ms Bennett hands over the spare practice room key to me later in the day and I excitedly tell the rest of the band at lunch.

"Told you it was worth asking her!" Brendon says.

"I know!" I shake my head at his 'I-told-you-so' comment. "Get this though, Bren, she actually called herself a 'Take That sort of woman' when I was talking to her," I say, grinning. He snorts and descends into a pit of adorable, infectious laughter. 

********************************************

"Where's Brent? It's been half an hour." Spence frowns.

"I don't know, I've texted him but he hasn't replied." Brendon tells us.

"Let's just start the rehearsal without him." I say.

"But he's part of the band!" Spencer counters.

"Well not right now since he should have been here half a fucking hour ago!" I say.

Brendon sighs. "He's right. We just need to practice,"he says to Spence. I grin, smug that Brendon took my side.

"Sure, ok. You guys got anything?" Spence asks.

I nod. "I've got something- I worked out this chord progression for Forbidden Fruit, right. It's like..." I look around for my guitar. "It's like this:" I play the C chord once, then D Minor twice, then G once, then E twice. I start singing the first verse quietly to show them how it would fit. Brendon nods along, smiling. I check Spencer's face- he's smiling too.

"I like it! I really like it!" Bren praises me and I can't help but feel my cheeks turn a little red.

"Yeah, it's great Ryan. So, we'll just work out the drums and bass and we'll have that done. But we still need two more songs." Spence says.

"Two?" I ask.

"Yeah, I read it online. The Battle of the Bands needs us to do a three-song set. One can be a cover, though." Spence reassures us slightly.

"I know one we can do!" Brendon says enthusiastically. "We could cover I Can't Make You Love Me by Bonnie Raitt! I know it's kinda soft, but-but we can adapt it for our sound. It's so beautiful, and it's one of my all time favourites," Brendon gushes.

"Ok." I say.

"Really?" He gives puppy dog eyes to me and then Spence in turn.

"Yes, man!" Spencer laughs. "Neither of us have any better ideas, right Ryan?" I shake my head. "You had better be able to sing it fucking flawlessly, though," Spence jokes.

"It's Bren, what song can he not sing flawlessly?" I answer while staring straight at Brendon. When I say this, he grins and his cheeks grow slightly pink. My heart beats a little bit faster.

****************************************************

It's about 9pm when I get a Skype message from Bren. I'm settled, my dad isn't home (and probably won't be for a good few hours. He only went out for a drink forty minutes ago and there's no way he's coming home until he's sufficiently shitfaced) and the sun has only just set so the sky is that colour between light and dark blue.

_**Bren Urie: Hey Ry** _

'Hey Ry'? What the fuck does that mean? And why the fuck is he messaging me at like 9pm at night?

_**Ryro: Hey Bren** _

**_Bren Urie: Oh good youre up lol_ **

_**Ryro: Yeah? lol its only 9** _

**_Bren Urie: yea fair point_ **

**_wanna video chat?_ **

**_Ryro: Uh why?_ **

**_Bren Urie:..I just like talking to you thats_ ** **_all lol_ **

My gut twists. He just likes talking to me. A grin spreads on my face, I can't help it.

_**Ryro: Yeah of course** **we can video chat** _

_**Bren Urie: Yay :)** _

I accept his call but I can't see him on the screen when it starts.

"Bren, your camera isn't-" My breath hitches in my throat as his face pops up on my laptop screen. The glowing light from his laptop shines on his face, in his eyes and on top of his lips highlighting his perfect cupid's bow. His parents must have bought him some stupidly expensive webcam because I can almost count his freckles. 

Bren's handsome in the way that his features are soft and beautiful...his hair is all messed up and his lips look way too soft. He's stunning, oh my fucking God, he's stunning, and I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not absolutely desperate to kiss him.

"What are you staring at?" He giggles and I notice the half-full glass of red wine in his hand.

"Nothing. Where'd you get that wine from?" I ask.

He giggles again and puts his finger over his lips. "Shhhh it's a secret."

I cock an eyebrow. "Seriously?" He rolls his eyes.

"I stole it out of my uncle's house if you must know," He smirks and my desire to kiss him is amplified. Fuck , fuck, fuck I can't let myself feel like this.

"Right," I laugh. He smiles and then suddenly turns serious.

"I wanted to tell you something." He says solemnly, staring at his wine glass as he speaks. My palms start to sweat and I wipe them on my jeans absent-mindedly.

"OK?" I prompt him.

"I know that you nearly kissed me." He says quietly. I hang my head. Of course he knows...I mean, I was barely a few centimetres away from actually doing the fucking thing. I just...I just thought that we both had a silent agreement not to bring it up. I consider denying it, but that would just make it worse. We both know that if Spencer hadn't walked in I probably would have actually kissed him.

"Ok, well, just know I don't like you that way." I insist. "I don't even like boys that way!" I lie. That's a huge fucking lie, and the magazine under my bed knows it. "It's just that you were there, and...I don't know what I was doing. I'm sorry."

Brendon nods. "I know. It's ok."

"Brendon?" I ask.

"Yeah, Ry?"

I take a deep breath. I have to ask it, and he's practically drunk right now. Who knows if he'll even remember what I asked tomorrow. I just need to know the answer.

"What would you have done if I actually did it? Kissed you, I mean."

Brendon tilts his head slightly, smirks and licks his lips. "I probably would have kissed you back." He giggles and hiccups. I stare at him, speechless. For just one moment I allow myself to bask in the glow of what he's just said, to bask in the thought that I could have kissed this beautiful, amazing boy and he probably would have kissed me back. Then I push all those thoughts, all those thoughts of kissing boys- especially freckly boys with bright eyes and big lips and angelic singing voices- and I shove all of those thoughts deep down in my brain. Where my dad won't find them.

Brendon downs the rest of his wine. "I'm going to sing to you," he tells me. I laugh.

"Ok," I tell him.

"This is- you know, the song? That I said we should do for, you know, Battle of the Bands." He clears his throat.

 

_"Turn down the lights_

_Turn down the bed_

_Turn down these voices inside my head"_

 

My hairs stand on end as I listen to him. Brendon Urie's voice is what I imagine heaven to sound like. And I can't believe he's singing to me. I don't even have the words to describe him. His hair...His nose...Those lips...The way he shakes his head sometimes when he sings.

 

_"Lay down with me_

_Tell me no lies_

_Just hold me close, don't_ patronize

_Don't patronize me"_

 

I can't stop watching him. He's singing, just for me, TO me and I can't believe it. He looks straight into his webcam as he sings:

 

_"'Cause I can't make you love me if you don't_

_You can't make your heart feel something it won't_

_Here in the dark, in these final hours_

_I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power_

_But you won't, no you won't_

_'Cause I can't make you love me, if you don't"_

 

But he's wrong. He could make me love him. Far too easily. 


	7. Red Waistcoat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, ok, I know that I literally haven't updated this for like ... 3 months. To be fair, I have a lot of schoolwork. And I'm also a very lazy human- despite how much I love this story. I just want to say I'm sorry for the huge wait. Thank you so much for enjoying my story because it makes me sososo happy. ANYWAY, I have a break coming up so hopefully I can get a few chapters done then to post every week or so? I'm so excited to get to the battle of the bands bit,, I have such big plans oh boy.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Hopefully there won't be as much of a wait for the next chapter !!!!

"Let me get this straight...You're grounded. For 6 weeks?!" Spencer's fingertips rub his temples.

Brendon nods in response to Spence's question.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Spencer throws his hands into his hair. I don't think he's specifically directing his anger at Brendon. We're just in a bit of a conundrum; The Battle of the Bands is in 3 weeks. And our lead singer is grounded for 6. It doesn't really factor into our winning band formula. I mean, neither does the fact that we're still missing one song for our set. We have Forbidden Fruit, and the cover Brendon chose- but we still need another original. It's unfair to force Bren to write another, and I've been being wracked by writer's block. I don't even think we have a chance at this point to be honest.

"I guess we deserve to know why Mr and Mrs Urie decided to ground you." Spencer says this matter-of-factly but his hands are still practically pulling his hair out.

"I...uh, stole wine." Brendon looks down at his lunch.

"Oh my god. What are we gonna do?" Spence sounds like he has officially given up.

"We could practice at school?" I suggest, trying to bail Brendon out.

"When? We can't do it after school because _someone_ got himself put under house arrest." Spencer counters.

"No, Ryan, that's a great idea! We could practice at lunch, right? And after school too. I'll just tell my parents I'm studying, we'll get Ms. Bennett to vouch for it." Brendon is grinning now that I've saved his skin.

"Alright. We'll try it." Spencer is still trying to keep up his tough guy approach, but his mouth-twitch gives it away and he breaks into a smile.

"We'll try it." I repeat.

The three of us grin at each other. We're optimistic again, despite the fact that the odds are stacked against us.  
No third song, grounded lead singer and, oh, did I forget to mention our absentee bassist? Brent has been "ill" for 4 days now. Except "ill" is just code for "I'm avoiding those three because I can't be fucked going to rehearsals." But there's nothing we can do. He's the only bassist we've got.   
The next day, we've already started our practice routine minus-Brent. At 7 AM, school is open for everyone who's parent's have to drop them off super early and so we're able to get into the practice room. It's cramped as fuck, and the school-property drum-kit Spencer is practising on is incomplete but we make it work. By Wednesday lunch we've kind of built up a following.

OK, so maybe I'm being self-indulgent by calling it a following. But there is a group of five girls who huddle outside our practice room and try to peek through the window one at a time. This time, though, they attempt to make contact.  
One girl with dark hair and a sweet face raps on the door confidently while I'm tuning my guitar.

"I'll get it," Brendon volunteers, stepping over my stretched-out legs to get to the door.

"Hey!" The girl calls out. I look up. She's batting her eyelids.

"Uh, hi." Brendon's tone of voice is unsure and friendly all at the same time.

The girl leans against the doorway and bats her eyelids even more aggressively.

"I just wanted to say that we've been listening to you and you sound great." She's smirking now. My hands involuntarily ball themselves up into fists.

"Oh, thank you. We're practising for Battle of the Bands." Brendon replies, trying to divert the subject away from him.

"Well I'm sure you'll win from what I've heard. Of course, having a hot lead singer helps too." She's being blatant now. Clumsy. Something animalistic inside me rears its head and I want to go over there and push her out of our doorway. Brendon chuckles and I drop my head. I can't fucking endure this.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. I'm Sarah, by the way."

"I'm Brendon."

I wait until the door has been shut again to look up. Brendon's cheeks are rosy.

"She was forward." I raise my eyebrows.

"Yeah," Brendon grins, "and attractive."

I grind my teeth.

"She wasn't that attractive." I mutter. I can't help myself. I regret it instantly.

"That was kinda fucking mean, Ry," Spencer laughs.

"Sorry, man. I guess I'm just jealous I'm not getting any attention." I'm only half-joking when I say this. Brendon laughs.

"Oh, don't worry. That blonde chick behind Sarah had her eye on you." Brendon assures me, but that's not what I meant. I don't want attention off those girls.

"We should get back to practising." I say.

"Yeah, Brendon you can dream about Sarah later." Spencer teases him. "Maybe even write a song about her, God knows we need one."

"Don't worry." I look at Spence. "I'll write the next song."   
********  
On Friday, after a long discussion the day before, we have decided on outfits for Battle of the Bands. Basically, we're wearing anything we own that is black and vaguely dress-wear-like.

I've just got a shirt, tie and pants- as has Spencer. Brendon has borrowed one of my waistcoats. It's red, so it doesn't fit in with our dress code, but it kinda works seeing as Bren is our lead. Brent is presumably wearing something suitable too. I mean, we wouldn't know since he still hasn't been fucked to turn up to practice.

Anyway, we've all brought our "costumes" to show one another at practice tonight. Spencer tells us just to get changed in the practice room. Together. Since, "we're all boys, right?" Funny shit. Thankfully, I worm my way out of this potentially dangerous situation by telling Spencer I want to change on my own, insinuating that my dad gave me bruises that I don't want Brendon to see.

"Oh, yeah, sorry man, of course." Spencer says quickly to me.

"I'll just go the bathroom." I nod at him. He gives me a reassuring smile.

I change in the cubicle, paranoid that someone might come in despite the fact our band are most probably the only ones still in school at this point. I'm staring at myself in the mirror, two hands on the sink, when the door swings open. I whip my head around.

"Sorry, I just wanted to check you're ok." Brendon says softly. He's changed into his outfit.

"You look good," I murmur. To be honest, he looks absolutely angelic but I would feel stupid saying that to his face. The crappy bathroom lighting makes his features look soft and glowing and I can't stop myself from staring at him. I'm trying to preserve this image in my brain.

"Right back at you," He smiles with the left side of his mouth.

I step closer to him.

He clears his throat. His eyes flick down to my lips then back to meet my eyes again.

I take another step closer.

He breaks the silence; "D-do you have Sarah's number?"

I want to scream.

"No." I choke out. "I don't have Sarah's number."

I step away from him and try to walk out of the door as calmly as I can.

During practice, every time I blink, the only thing I can see behind my eyelids is Brendon in his red waistcoat, his eyes on my lips.


	8. Set Something Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'm INCREDIBLY bad at updating. I'm really sorry.   
> Firstly, let me say if you're still reading this I am so grateful and I genuinely love you for appreciating my work. You have the patience of a saint for waiting for my sporadic updates. THANK YOU!!!!  
> Secondly, I have a playlist for this fic on spotify. It's just called "let it eat you away" so feel free to follow it (and ignore my cringey username i made when i was 12 lmao!!) Its what i listen to when writing this fic and its songs that tie in with parts of the fic and just generally remind me of LIEYA.  
> Thirdly, enjoy the chapter. <3

If I had writer's block last week, this week I have whatever the exact opposite is. Words are pouring out of me and I've gone through a whole journal. Whatever happened the other day, with Brendon and Sarah, set something off inside me. Jealousy.

  
I've fallen for him.

  
At least, I think so. Because all he has to do is smile at me and my heart beats a million times a minute and I can feel the red spread across my cheeks. I want to put these feelings in a box and bury them somewhere far away from Vegas where angelic, freckly boys can't unbury them whenever they do so much as look at me. But I can't. So, I'm working on getting over him, because I know for sure he doesn't look at me and feel the same warmth spread across his cheeks. And that time he said he'd kiss me back was just a wine-drunken blunder. It's so painfully obvious he didn't really mean it and I want to scream at past me for ever believing him.

  
Even though all this shit with Bren is going on, I'm still kind of happy going into school for rehearsals, because my excessive writing means we have a song we can do now. Our set is complete.

  
I push the practice room door open with high spirits until I see Spence and Brendon already in there.

  
Spence has his head in his hands and Brendon is pacing around in the little empty space the tiny room has. I shut the door softly.

  
"What's wrong?" I frown.

Spence lifts his head from his hands. "Brent fucking quit the band." He spits out through gritted teeth.

  
"What?" I look at Brendon.

  
"He quit, Ry." Brendon gives me a 'what-can-we-do?" look.

  
"You've got to be kidding me." I shake my head in disbelief.

  
"I wish." Bren says.

  
I slump to the floor and sit cross-legged, staring at the carpet. We're all silent for a while. This band means so much to us. This Battle of the Bands means so much to us. I don't understand how Brent can know this and just...discard us.

  
"We can still do this right?" I ask quietly. The other two don't respond.

  
We stay silent for another long while.

  
"Think about it, right?" I pipe up again. "There's loads of bands that are just a guitarist and a singer. We're only missing a bassist. We can still do this." I look at the others, desperate for either of them to show some kind of enthusiasm. Brendon gives me a weak smile.

  
"Right." He says half-heartedly.

  
"Spence?" I ask. He lifts his head and sighs.

  
"Okay." He nods.

  
"Alright. We can do it." I repeat. I reach into my pocket and take out the folded paper with my lyrics on. "I wrote a song. We can compose this now, and spend the rest of our time this week adapting the other two songs now Brent has left."

  
"Let's see." Brendon reaches for my lyrics. I hesitate, feeling self-conscious because, after all, they're about him. Thank God I wrote the whole thing in barely decodeable metaphors.

  
I pass them over to his outstretched hand. His eyes skip over my handwriting, his head nodding at the same time.

  
"These are brilliant, Ry." He grins at me and I tell my heart to stop beating this fast because I'm not meant to be feeling like this anymore. Brendon passes the lyrics to Spence.   
"What Bren said. You're really good." Spence agrees. I grin. I can feel the air between us turn hopeful.

  
"So I have this idea for the melody." I say.

  
"Go on," Spence smiles.

  
"I don't exactly know how to describe it." I pull a face.

  
"Just try." Bren says.

  
"Well it's like- it's kind of...Like a kind of finger picking thing...But kind of not?" I stumble over my words.

  
"Ry, we can't do it if you can't describe it." Bren raises an eyebrow at me and my internalised anger towards him rears its head.

  
"Well I'm sorry, we won't fucking do it then." I snap and run a hand through my hair.

  
"Ryan stop being a brat." Spence narrows his eyes at me. "Brendon's right, we can't do shit if you can't tell us what we're doing."

  
"Oh, nice to know you're siding with _him_." I mutter.

  
"What does that mean? No one's taking sides, I'm just making a point." Brendon says matter-of-factly.

  
"Oh yeah, sure." I roll my eyes. "Whatever, I'll just do whatever you guys want."

  
I brood for the rest of the rehearsal while we go through the motions of trying different chord progressions and riffs I had lying around.

  
When I get home, I go through my usual routine of creeping around, trying not to wake my asshole father up. But when I get upstairs a wave of guilt creeps over me. I freaked out at Spence and Bren today the same way my dad freaks out on me. Granted, not as violently or agressively but...the sentiment was there. And I don't want to be anything like him.

  
I scramble for my phone and hastily start typing an apology to both of them.

  
**Ryan: Bren and Spence**   
**I acted like a dick today and im so sorry. Seriously. I dont know what the fuck i was thinking but i shouldnt have been like that.**

  
I hit send.

  
Bren types back almost immediately.

  
**Brendon: its cool dude :)!! you were jst having a bad day i guess??**

  
**Spence: yea just dont take it out on us next time lmao**

  
**Ryan: Honestly man, i know. I won't.**

  
**Spence: Its fine Ry we've been friends all our lifee its cool honestly haha**

  
I feel a wave of relief wash over me. I will never be like my father. Never.

  
I reach under my bed and find the glossy magazine. I look at it but the man on the front isn't nearly as attractive to me as he used to be. I mostly just wish he were Brendon, and I decide to boot up my computer just so I can look at Brendon's skype profile picture. In it he's smiling directly at the camera and you can see the light in his eyes.

  
God, I've got to stop thinking like this.


	9. Sarah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait again!! But- its battle of the bands next chapter so look forward to that!! Also, fun fact, I put this chapter into a word count and 4% of this chapter is the word Brendon,, why am i like this,, AnywaY thank you so much for keeping up with the story and reading it, enjoy the chapter!!!!

Lots of people have bad habits. Some smoke too much. Some people, like my father, drink too much. I just stare at Brendon Urie. I realise this is a bad habit when Spencer brings it up one lunch when Bren isn't there.

"Do you realise you're, like, a stare-y person?" 

"What the fuck?" I laugh.

"Well, it's just, you keep staring at Brendon during rehearsals and its probably freaking him out." Spencer turns his head like a confused dog. "What's with that?"

"What?" I feel my cheeks flushing and I urge them to stop 

Spence lowers his voice and leans closer to me. "Are you, like, into him? No judgement dude, I respect you, but there is no way I'm letting you break up my band." He sits up again. "He's into Sarah anyway." 

I feel this comment burn my skin. And I think about how guilty I feel every time I look up Brendon on Skype just to stare at his profile picture

"I'm not into him," I spit through my teeth. "I'm not gay." I'm betting my whole face is some deep shade of ruby right now.

"Sorry." Spence looks sheepish and I immediately feel guilty for snapping at Spencer again. We sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Spencer pipes up, changing the subject.

"One week to go." He grins. I smile back.

"Terrifying. We can win with Brendon's voice alone, though." The comment slips out before I can stop it and I curse my brain for always thinking about him. But Spencer just smiles back and his kind eyes glint with pity.

After lunch we head back to the practice room. With only a week until Battle of the Bands, Spence, Bren and I have been spending most of our lives holed up in here. But it's paying off, and it shows in our songs. I really do think we're in with a chance now.

Spencer pushes open the door before stopping in his tracks. 

"Brendon?" He asks.

"What are you doing in here?" I add. My eyes slip down and that's when I see her. Sarah is sitting on the floor cross-legged, smiling, with my guitar lying in her lap. Red hot fury courses through me, starting at my toes and travelling up to my mouth where I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from screaming. Brendon sees me staring.

"Sorry...Sarah wanted to learn guitar and I said I'd teach her some stuff, 'cause I kind of know how. I didn't think you'd mind if she borrowed yours, Ry." Brendon gives me a tentative smile and subconciously picks at his nails. 

Dontbejealous. Dontbejealous. Dontbejealous.

I force a smile. "No, it's fine." I lie and give Sarah a nod to reinforce this. "I'm Ryan. Don't think we've properly been introduced." I'm not quite sure who I'm actually putting this show on for. Spencer, Brendon or myself? All I know is that this feels a whole lot worse than those chest pangs I got from seeing him in that red waistcoat. They felt right. This feels so fucking wrong.

"And that's Spencer," Brendon introduces Spence.

"I'm Sarah!" Sarah grins at me as if I didn't already know her name. "Nice to meet you." 

I give her a nod back, not wanting to lie anymore and tell her that it was nice to meet her too. Spencer smiles and gives a polite "You too."

"Maybe we should get on with rehearsals. One week to go and everything," I say quietly. I mean for it to come out polite but my envy leaks through into my words and I feel so idiotic.

"Oh, sorry! I'll get going." Sarah is being extra polite as she lays down my guitar carefully. My eyes follow her as she leaves, giving Brendon a flirty smile, showing off her big, white, perfect teeth. 

When she shuts the door, Brendon lets out a deep, contented sigh and I look up to see him beaming like a toddler. Spencer laughs and playfully punches him on the shoulder.

"What's up with you?" Spence teases. My stomach hasn't stopped squeezing itself into a tiny ball since we walked in.

"Nothing." Brendon chuckles. I almost roll my eyes before I remind myself that I'm not meant to be doing that anymore. I'm not meant to be being jealous anymore. Because, the more I allow myself to feel, the more I will spiral and then I won't be able to crawl out from the blanket he's put over me. And it's so warm and it feels so safe...but I need to crawl out while I can. Otherwise I'll be stuck there.

I steal another glance at him, and he's still glowing, running his hand through his hair while I tune my guitar after Sarah's used it. He catches me staring and I give him a smile and he gives me one back and I almost let my insides melt like they normally do.

I finally say something after school, when me and Bren are walking together.

"So-" I take a deep breath-"are you and Sarah, like, a thing?"

A warm pink touches Brendon's cheeks after I ask this and I remind myself to stop looking. That's another dollar in the 'Admiring Brendon Urie' jar. 

"No!" He shakes his head. "I mean- not yet." He laughs. I try to force myself to laugh along with him but it comes out too high-pitched and staged.

"So, you want to be?" I ask.

"I guess." Brendon looks down and kicks a stone on the floor. 

"Whatever makes you happy," I mumble.

And I mean it, I really do. 


End file.
